It's a pocket knife, not a gift from God
by PastelYellow
Summary: They would still talk on the phone almost every weekend, just like they used to in high school, and she would complain about the idiots in her classes. Then one day, it all just stopped. [With their teenage years left behind, adult life delivers gut punch after gut punch to Duncan and Courtney's already unsteady relationship.] [Inspired by the song The Broken Ones by Dia Frampton]


**A/N: I know I should be working on TDOT, but I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. It _needed_ to be written!**

 **Cover art** **by A** **cknebars on Tumblr, go check him out his art is great!**

 **I do not own Total Drama, all rights reserved to the respective owners.**

* * *

Courtney stared at the unimpressive cardboard box on her coffee table. She hadn't moved from the couch, her hands clasped, elbows digging into her knees, for what could've easily been hours. She didn't know. She didn't care.

She hadn't heard from Duncan in months, and not seen him in even longer. Not since _she_ entered his life. Courtney knew they shouldn't have kept talking, but old habits die hard. They had been in each other's lives for years, dating sporadically throughout their teen years. But it never got serious; Duncan would say it was because of her uncertainty about the two of them, Courtney said it was because of his unsteady past and unplanned future.

So when he found a girl whose life was more in his style, her passions mimicking his - none -, they'de parted ways. Though he would still text her every now and then, tell her about the "wicked new tattoo" Gwen had designed or about his "asshole landlord". And they would still talk on the phone almost every weekend, just like they used to in high school, and she would complain about the idiots in her class.

Then one day, it all just stopped.

Courtney had thought it was because of Gwen, maybe she disapproved of him keeping in contact with an ex, or maybe he had finally gotten over her; for real this time. She never would've thought it was something as serious as this, and until a couple of hours ago she couldn't even have imagined it.

When she'd seen the return address stamped on the back of the letter, she'd thought it was a joke, almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Duncan always did have a dark sense of humor. But then she'd opened it.

"She's been staring at that box for over an hour now!" Geoff exclaimed in a loud whisper, worried for his friend. He didn't know if she had zoned out completely, if the whispering really was necessary since they stood several meters away, on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. Bridgette nodded, worrying her lower lip, staring at her friend still sitting - unmoving - on the couch.

"What do you think the letter said?" she whispered back, her eyes never leaving Courtney.

"I'm guessing something deep… personal. I haven't seen her like this since her dad passed." Bridgette nodded, slowly walking over to the couch, prompted by the probable bad news contained in the letter.

"Court?" she asked carefully and laid a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder, hoping to fish a response out of her. But nothing came, not even a nod of the head as acknowledgement. "Court, what did the letter say?" Geoff moved silently around the breakfast bar, coming up behind Bridgette, a frown on his face.

"Talk to us, Courtney", he tried, the knot in his stomach only tightening by the second.

Courtney closed her eyes and heaved a heavy sigh, racking her mind for the right words. The couple waited patiently, not wanting to rush her, but needing to know what was wrong.

"Duncan's-", she started, her voice horse and her throat dry, "Duncan's in prison."

* * *

"Courtney Cadenas. I'm here to see Duncan Evans." The reception was sterile. Bad sterile. The walls bare, the floor without color, even the chairs provided for visitors were bland, metallic once with a backrest too low to be comfortable for anyone over 1,3 meters.

The guard hummed as she scanned the lengthy list of visitors, cross checking it with Duncan's file. _He's only been imprisoned for a week. Maybe the paperwork hasn't gone through?_ Courtney curled her toes inside her shoes, her loins cramping with nervosity and fear.

"Cadenas, here you are", the guard finally said, repeating the names and Duncan's prison number to her coworker who swiftly exited the reception with a nod. He disappeared through the doors and Courtney could see him talk into the walkie strapped to the shoulder of his uniform. "You'll be allowed one hug, kiss or handshake at the beginning of your visit, and one at the end. We will interfere if we deem the situation inappropriate and disturbing to other visitors." Courtney nodded as the guard rambled about the rules with clearly fake excitement, but the words spoken to her never registered inside her head. All she could think of was Duncan.

The door buzzed, snapping Courtney out of her dazed state, and a male guard ushered her through, grumbling about not having all day and for her to hurry up.

It was early still. Only a few other visitors occupied the visitation room when she entered, her gaze wandering over the tables. Most looked like concerned parents or spouses, some had children visiting. She wondered if Gwen had been to see him yet.

"Princess!" Duncan exclaimed, standing up from his seat, his arms spread wide, inviting her into a hug. The palm of her hand stopped him, resting warily on his chest to show him not to come any closer. He looked visibly disappointed but sat down without complaint nonetheless. "Did you get here okay?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Courtney only nodded in response, her eyes glued to the table, not daring to look at him. Because if she did it would be real. She didn't want it to be real.

"I, uh", Duncan started again, letting his tongue flick across his chapped lips, "It's good to see you."

"Why?" Her voice was weak when she finally opened her mouth and lifted her gaze to meet his. The emptiness in her usually warm, lifeful eyes was like a punch to the gut for Duncan.

"Well, it's… it's been a while."

"No, Duncan", she shook her head, closing her eyes as she did so, pressing her lips tightly together, "arson… why arson?"

"Babe", he reached out across the table, enclosing her hands in his, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of them. Her eyes opened in shock, her gaze settling on the contact of their hands, and she didn't pull away, but she didn't let her fingers intertwine with his either. Indifferent, he decided it felt like. "It was a stupid, drunken mistake."

"Why?" Courtney repeated again.

Duncan sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, returning it to hold hers again afterwards. "We were drunk, there was a fire pit..." he trailed off with a shrug of his shoulders. Courtney raised her head, letting her eyes meet his again, they flashed with worry and anger, but returned to their previous emptiness in a matter of seconds. "It was an accident", Duncan continued, more earnest this time, "We were cold and I, uh-" another sigh "I accidentally spilled my beer in the fire. It got out of control in seconds, there was nothing we could do." He sounded different, pained almost, and Courtney knew the guilt and regret was killing him. She moved her hands in his, letting her fingers skim across his skin, showing him that she was there for him, that she believed him, that she cared.

"Did anyone get hurt?"

"Thankfully, no." The honest relief in his eyes made her heart warm. Her Duncan was still there; empathetic and caring. The Duncan that bought his friend a new puppy when his old dog got hit by a car. The Duncan that drove her to the dentist and held her hand throughout the procedure because he knew she was scared, even if she wouldn't ever admit it. The Duncan that pulled the fire alarm when a friend hadn't studied for an important test.

This was not the Duncan that skipped town without a word, only bringing Gwen and a duffel bag of his stuff. This was not the Duncan that had left her behind.

"Has Gwen been here yet?"

"You're actually, uh, you're the first one." The confession came as a shock to her, she would've thought for sure Gwen and his mother had visited, hell, she'd thought even his father had - not entirely willingly, but still.

"Oh", was all she got out.

"Yeah", Duncan nodded sadly, rubbing his lips together as his gaze wandered over the room, "Things with Gwen…" he took a breath, wanting to finish the sentence but feeling uneasy in spilling his heart's content to the girl he was still oh so in love with, "she, uh, she's been with me through the trial." It was the closest to the truth he could manage.

Courtney nodded, her eyes dropping to their intertwined hands, wondering how things could have gotten so ugly between them when his skin against hers felt like a dream coming true. "What's in the package?" she asked shakily, hoping he would understand her reasons for not opening it; even without having to tell him. He always used to understand.

"You didn't open it?" She shook her head, not daring to lift her eyes to meet his. "Don't worry, it's…" Duncan trailed off, wanting nothing more than to lighten the mood, to ease the thick tension between them, but knowing very well the contents of his gift would only worsen it. So, with a forced smirk on his face, Duncan did what he always does in hard situations. "You'll love it. I mean, it's no naked pictures or anything, but you'll still appreciate it."

"I see you're still as vile as ever." The sentiment was a harsh one for anyone listening in, but between the two on-and-off-lover's it meant the world. The sad smile on her lips, the way his fingers clung to hers; they were going to get through this too, they had each other and always would.

* * *

It became their new routine. He would stay out of trouble the best he could, for her sake, and she would visit him every Saturday, no matter what.

She worried about him, wanted his stay in prison - however brief - to go as smoothly as possible, and that watery look of worry and grief in her eyes was something he swore to himself never to be the cause of again. So no matter how stupidly agitating the other inmates were and no matter how contradicting and humiliating the guards orders were, Duncan would stay silent and compliant.

Most times she would come alone, but sometimes not. Geoff and Bridgette had insisted to go with her the second time and Courtney tried her hardest to ignore the exchange of looks and raised eyebrows between the couple as she clung to her ex like her life depended on it. It didn't matter if she came alone or not, she always hugged him, nestling her head into the nook of his shoulder, breathing in his scent enough to last her another week, she always held his hand throughout the visit, rubbing her thumb across his skin comfortingly. Their limited moments together were too important to care about other people's opinions; _he_ was too important.

On visit number five she asked the question he had dreaded since day one. "Duncan? Where is Gwen?"

"What do you mean 'where is she'?" He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. "She's probably at home, eating dinner or something."

Courtney tilted her head expectantly, raising her eyebrows in demand, when he didn't take the question seriously. "She hasn't come to see you in five weeks, Duncan."

"Yeah", he sighed, his gaze falling to the table, "We're on a break... or something, I guess."

"You broke up?" The warmth that had built in her chest over the weeks grew hotter at the realization - the possibility - and she swallowed hard, forcing the feeling away. No... she wasn't happy they'd broken up. She shouldn't be.

"I mean", Duncan started, the words dying on his lips. He scratched the uneven surface of the wooden table uncomfortably. "We got into a fight… because of the charges." Courtney nodded understandingly as his eyes quickly flicked to her face and back down again. "She said she thought I did it on purpose." For attention, she had said, but he left that part out. Hurt and betrayal was written across his face and it made Courtney reach for his face, cupping his cheek in her hand, their eyes meeting.

"I know it was an accident", she reassured him, stroking his chin comfortingly with her thumb as he leaned into her touch.

"Hey!" a rough voice called, startling the couple, making her hand drop audibly to the table and the other visitors and inmates turn in their direction, "Keep the touching to a minimum."

"Sorry, officer", Courtney said apologetically, a blush creeping up her neck, warming her cheeks in embarrassment.

"Things have been rough over the last year. I mean", Duncan chuckled darkly, "even before prison." It was a few moments before he spoke again. The clock ticking loudly behind him as a grim reminder of their limited time together. "I was fine working at the repair shop, you know?" She nodded. "But apparently, that's not a 'real career' and I was not being 'ambitious enough'", he quoted. "Her apartment's small, we got on each others nerves, and so, I started going out." She noted his choice of words - _her apartment_ \- but decided not to question it, for now. "We barely spoke, and when we did, it was to fight." He sighed as he dragged his hands along his head, down his neck, before clasping them together on the table.

"I'm sorry, Duncan." Courtney covered his hands with her own and he smiled.

"Don't be. At least I got to see you again."

* * *

They didn't talk about Gwen any more after that, not really. She would be present in the subtext of a shared memory, hidden behind anecdotes of other people, but never mentioned specifically.

It wasn't until a couple of weeks later the two couldn't skirt around the topic any longer.

"Michelle Evans. I'm here for my son, Duncan Evans." The sentence was loud and clear in the mostly empty reception, catching Courtney off guard as she stepped through the door, stopping her dead in her tracks.

"Do you want to wait for the other visitor before going in?" the guard asked without looking up from the list of approved visitors, searching for the new name. By this point, Courtney had learnt the guards name was Johnson. She was friendly, even if somewhat dull, and would look at Courtney with sympathy.  
"Other visitor?" Michelle asked perplexed, her brows furrowing.

"I, um", Courtney cleared her throat, catching the attention of the older woman, "I think she means me."

"Courtney?" The shock in her voice was hard not to notice, making Courtney visibly cringe. She knew them crossing paths again was inevitable, what with the love they both had for Duncan, but even still, she was unprepared.

"Hi", she meekly offered, taking a few unsure steps up to the woman still staring at her in shock. The buzzer for the door interrupted the moment loudly and another guard ushered them through.

Duncan was sat at the backmost table with his hands clasped in front of him, bouncing one of his legs rapidly as he worried his lower lip. He knew they were both here, she deducted.

"Duncan", Michelle greeted warmly, holding out her arms wide to embrace her son once he shot up from the chair in surprise. He looked at Courtney over his mothers shoulder as they hugged, his brows narrowing in disappointment at seeing her mouth the words 'no hug'. It was awkward enough seeing your ex's mother while visiting said ex in prison. Adding intimacy and physical contact to the equation only made it worse. "You look skinny", Michelle said as they all sat down at the table, "They feed you in here?"

"Nothing beats your cooking, ma", Duncan answered with a smirk, his hand falling subconsciously to the table palm up. Courtney's eyes flickered to the sad sight of his empty hand stretched out, waiting for hers.

"Really, Duncan, are you doing okay?"

"Don't worry about me, it's just for a few more months", he reassured.

Michelle talked about what Duncan had missed over the months they'd been out of touch, about the big family barbecue, how hilariously angry his father had gotten at burning the steaks and grumpily admitting it to their guests, how Jonas's daughter had taken her first steps and his wife going back to work, how she finally found the necklace her mother had given her that had disappeared within days - it was behind the dresser. Courtney could only sit and listen, watch as Duncan's eyes lit up at the stories and bathe in the sound of his earnest laugh. All while her own hand snuck subconsciously closer to his; her fingers skimmed the inside of his wrist and his thumb massaged circles into hers.

Eventually her stories turned into questions. She asked him about life in prison, about the other inmates, the guards, the rules, if he was at least trying keeping himself out of trouble in there.

"Actually, ma", Duncan said, his soft gaze drifting to Courtney, "the warden says I might get out on early release for good behavior." He squeezed her hand. "Promised princess here to keep to myself."

"How's Gwen?" Michelle asked abruptly, eyeing their interlocked hands with uncertain curiosity, almost disapprovingly.

"I don't know", he shrugged.

"Well hasn't she visited you? You've talked on the phone at least, right?"

"No, ma", Duncan said more sternly, hoping to end the interrogation.

"I see." She pursed her lips as her eyes wandered between the couple, the welcoming warmth Courtney had grown familiar with over her teenage years slowly overtaking the older woman's features. Michelle knew little of the struggles her son had gone through lately - he wouldn't talk to her about it -, but had instantly seen the way he lit up in Courtney's presence and how much more at ease he seemed to be now than the last time she'd seen him. And if that was Courtney's doing she couldn't be certain of, but if it was she could do nothing less than let them be happy together.

Courtney let herself hug Duncan as they said goodbye. "I'll miss you", he whispered, his lips brushing her cheek and his breath warm against her skin. She wrapped her arms more tightly around him and nodded agreeingly into his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his skin before breaking apart slowly.

As they exited into the reception Michelle turned to face Courtney, putting a hand on her shoulder as to get her attention. "Thank you."

"For what?" Courtney blinked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"You're good for him", Michelle said, letting her hand fall to her side again, "Who knows what he'd be up to in there without you?" she chuckled; a worry hidden behind a joke.

"I do my best", Courtney smiled back, reassurance filling up the spaces between the lines.

* * *

The door closed shut hard behind her and she kicked her shoes off with a sigh, falling down on her back on the couch exasperatedly.

"Courtney?" Bridgette's voice asked carefully. She was sitting in the armchair opposite the couch, her feet propped up onto the coffee table, remote in lap and some generic reality show playing on the TV.

Courtney only grunted in answer, pulling a pillow from beside her to press against her face. The volume on the TV decreased as Bridgette took her feet off of the table, turning her body towards her friend, giving Courtney her full attention. Because even though she hadn't said so, Bridgette knew she needed to talk; she knew her.

"It's hard, you know", Courtney said quietly after minutes of heavy silence. "Seeing him in there."

"Yeah", Bridgette exhaled, nodding her head in agreement. She had only been twice, her boyfriend four times, and even without the complicated past Courtney shared with him it had still been an awful feeling.

"He may be getting out early."

"That's great!" she exclaimed happily, though her excited smile soon turned into confusion and worry as her friend didn't answer. "Isn't it?"

"No, yes, I don't know." Courtney sat up with a sigh, pulling her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. "He and Gwen broke up."

"I guessed that." Another few moments of silence passed. Bridgette chewed on her lower lip as she watched her friend curl into herself with anxiety. "Are you still in love with him?"

* * *

Courtney laid unmoving in her bed, staring at the shadows cast along the package from the warm glow of the candle on her nightstand. She still hadn't opened the box, afraid of what it might contain. She was afraid she had put too much meaning into it, and afraid she hadn't put enough.

Bridgette's question echoed in her mind. She hadn't answered. How could she? She didn't know the answer. But the way her stomach fluttered every week when she saw Duncan in that visitation room, the soothing electricity his skin against hers caused, the comforting feeling of his hand fitting perfectly in hers, it all reminded her of their teenage years; of the unmatched love they had shared. She still had the tiny D tattooed behind her ear to commemorate it.

It had been Duncan's idea, obviously, and it had taken months of begging until the white ink was etched into her skin forever and the begging changed into teasing. He had been so stupidly proud of it, grinning uncontrollably every time the wind caught her hair and the letter peeked out from under it, tracing the outline with his finger as they laid lazily tangled together on the bed.

With a determined sigh Courtney blinked the tears away and sat up with her legs crossed, pulling the package onto her lap. The tape had started to peel and the edges of the cardboard box were chipped. The candle cast just barely enough light for her to see what was inside, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the box, she was glad for the slow build instead of a sudden realization. It would've been like a slap in the face if she didn't have the dark to hide behind.

The light reflected off of the silver as Courtney carefully picked up the pocketknife. She recognized it, of course she did, and the tears she had struggled to keep in came rolling down her cheeks.

It was the knife Duncan had used for her; to carve the wooden skull she still had tucked away in the bottom drawer of her desk, to scratch their initials into trees and benches and, inevitably, her heart.

It was a message, she knew. It was his way of letting her know, even before she'd visited for the first time, that he cared, that she'd always have a place in his arms, a home in his heart.

Ten more weeks passed and before either of them knew it, Courtney was standing in the parking lot, leaning against her car with a big smile and a McDonald's bag in her hand, while Duncan signed out his belongings and took his first breath of fresh air and freedom in almost a year.

"Princess", he lit up as his eyes locked onto her and she couldn't help but rush to meet him, her arms curling around his neck as she pressed him close; no guard watching them, no time limit to consider, just the two of them; together; like it should be.


End file.
